These Moments
by ALiquoriceWand
Summary: A selection of random moments between James and Lily. Short drabbles.
1. A Private Spectacle

**A Private Spectacle **

"Stop," she exclaims suddenly turning and holding up a hand to his face. He eyes it warily wondering if she's going to slap him. "Please," she adds softly, "Just stop talking." She lowers her hand and starts walking again.

He stares after for her a few seconds before lamely running to catch up. They walk in silence, his feet scuffing the floor. "Really?"

"For a second. I'm thinking."

"Oh. About what?" he adds. He can't help it.

"You."

He bites back a response and carries on walking. He remembers grumbling to Remus that he could do rounds in seconds if he used the map but now, two months later, he finds himself thoroughly combing the castle twice a week and enjoying it. He likes talking to her. No one banters quite like she does.

"I don't get you," she announces suddenly. Her hand lightly brushes his as they walk and he wonders if she wants him to take it.

"I'm sorry?" his eyes snap up from her hand.

"I don't get you," she repeats. "I kissed you, which considering the amount of hand holding that's been going on can't have taken you that much by surprise, and then today you go back to acting like, how was it Sirius put it, a drunken baboon."

"You spoke to Sirius?"

"He felt someone should apologise for your behaviour."

"Oh. I'm sorry," he adds sheepishly.

"Its alright. I mean the flowers were lovely, beautiful really, its just if we're going to go out then I'd rather it not be a daily public spectacle."

"Go out," he repeats, but suddenly his brain catches up. "If?"

"Yes, if."

She stops and this time she grabs his hand. "I like you James Potter, but not," she pauses.

"The drunken baboon," he offers.

She smiles. "Exactly."

"I didn't know what I was expected to do," he admits. "You makes me nervous and when I get nervous I feel the need to show off. I'll work on it," he adds quickly.

"You're fine," she reassures him. She is still holding his hand her thumb softly stroking his palm and so his mind reasons he can't be doing too badly. "You're better than fine, but I like my private business to be, well, private."

"Private business eh?" He wiggles his eyes suggestively.

She finally drops his hand to swat him around the chest "Sod," she mutters.

"I can do private," he promises claiming her hand back. "I can."

"Good." She pauses again and he can't help but stare at her as a soft blush rises to her cheeks making him want to kiss her again. "And James one more thing."

"Anything," he replies, and like the sap he is he means it.

"The polite thing would have been to ask me out."

"Oh I didn't-" he answers slowly.

"What, think?" she interrupts teasingly.

"No," he mumbles. "The flowers," he begins, now he's sure he's the one blushing. "I guess I forgot to attach the note."


	2. Married

**Married**

"What's in the box?"

She looks up at him from her spot crossed legged on the floor. "You scared me," she mutters, stuffing some paper into the open box in front of her.

"Sorry," he replies, pulling off his cloak and discarding it on the sofa. "Seriously, what you got there?"

"Oh nothing," she tells him, and he raises an eyebrow. "Our wedding invitations," she admits sheepishly. "I had to pick them up they must have taken ages to make."

"Not as long as it took to pick the calligraphy," James mumbles, remembering that day spent sat in the same space endless piles of parchment of all different type thrown around them. His response is met with an invitation lamely thrown in his direction. With a light flick of his wand the paper rises and sails into his hand. He considers it for a moment. "They're nice," he agrees coming to sit on the floor beside his wife. "I'd forgotten we'd ordered some," he admits. It seems everything was going by them these days; even their own wedding had barely been a disruption in their lives.

"I don't know what to do with them. I mean it was stupid to open the box really but it seemed such a shame to just throw them away."

"Sod it, send them out anyway, a bit of proof you actually agreed to do it."

She smiles at that as she takes another invitation out the box.

"My mother would have had my head," he tells her, turning the invitation over in his hand, "Not even sending out invitations."

"You always were impatient," she teases, linking her hand with his, her finger tracing the curve of his wedding ring.

"Still," he continues. "We didn't have a cake, what kind of wedding doesn't have a cake."

She nods. "We probably should have had a cake," she pauses and leans her head on his shoulder letting out a small sigh. "Married," she mutters.

There so much he needs to say to her. That he's sorry they never had a proper wedding or that all they've done since is work for the Order but he can't find the words, so he leans his head atop hers. "Yeah," he sighs.

"It was a good day," she tells him forcefully.

"The best day," he agrees, giving her hand a squeeze. "But still, we should have had a cake."

She says nothing to this just squeezes his hand tighter. Her voice is no louder than a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

"You're sorry." he repeats. "You have nothing to be sorry about. I don't want anyone else. I'm still waiting for you to change your mind," he admits.

"Waiting," she teases, leaning over to put the invitations back in their box. He rolls his eyes and she smiles at him. "I'll get rid of them. I didn't need an invitation to make it special."

"We'll keep one," James tells her, holding up the invitation in his hand. "For Mum." Perhaps it's stupid but the look she gives him tells him that she understands.

Suddenly she stands up sharply giving him a quick kiss as she tucks the box under one arm. "Call the boys," she tells him over her shoulder, as she makes her way into their small kitchen. "I'm baking that cake."


	3. As He Was Supposed To

**As He Was Supposed To**

She pulls her cloak tighter around her as she waits. The soft bell tinkles as a couple, which she recognises as a pair of fifth-year Ravenclaws, exit the tea shop, his arm draped casually around his girlfriends shoulder. The pair give her a soft smile and she realises how pathetic she must look standing here waiting. She could leave, head back to her friends and pretend the entire thing had never happened. He was late after all. Yet she returns their smile and turns back to looking at the sign in the window. For if there was one thing more humiliating than here waiting here in the cold it would be having to admit the date never happened in the first place.

"The Lovebird Menu," James' voice comes from over her shoulder and she closes her eyes in frustration, she can't have him see her like this. "I thought you had better taste Lily."

"At least I have a date."

"In there?" he gestures inside of the tearoom, with a raised eyebrow.

She has no response for that, so simply turns back to staring at the pink flyer. "I thought you were having a boys day anyway." She sounds bitter and she knows it but she doesn't care. She wouldn't be standing here anyway if he'd asked her like he was supposed to.

Yet he continues undeterred. "Saw you standing alone thought I'd come check you were ok."

"I'm sure he's just a little late."

"No guy is good enough to leave you waiting, let alone outside some pathetic tea shop in the freezing cold. Seriously Lil he's not worth it."

She can't stop the blush that is rising to her cheeks, so looks down to straighten her skirt. "No one else asked me," she mumbles. Its so quiet for a moment she unsure whether he even heard her, she's not sure she wanted him to.

"You wanted someone else to ask you?"

"No," her answer is fast, too fast and he laughs in response. She turns back to the window. "Can you leave now?"

He laughs again. "No."

She turns to face him again, a hand on her hip. "No?" she repeats.

He ignores her and looks through the window into the teashop. "You know I'm many things Lily, but I always keep my promises."

"I'm sorry?" she looks at him but he's still looking through the window.

"You don't remember. Last year, Arithmacy, a truce I think you call it."

"Oh my," she whispers as it comes back to her. The truce. A friendship on the condition that he never asked her out again.

"James-" she begins, but she doesn't really know what to say.

He smiles to himself. "So you did want me to ask you," he says, still looking through the window. "I personally recommend the scones," he tells her. And with that he's gone.


	4. Hope

**Hope**

"Been looking for you."

She does not look up, just turns another page of _The Defensive Craft_. "You have," she answers noncommittally.

"You skipped dinner Lily," he points out.

"Busy," she turns the page again, wishing him away.

"I can see that. What you reading?" he asks and with a flash of a maroon and golden sleeve pulls the paper out of her grasp. "Ah," his eyes widening with understanding, "I figured as much."

She pouts at him, "How was practice?" she asks innocently, knowing it's the best way to throw him off track.

"Miserable," he admits. "The weathers appalling, the wind kept blowing the Bludgers in all directions, I got the horrific bruise," he starts to roll up his sleeve but stops, shaking his head at her defiantly. "But, that's beside the point."

"You have a point?" she asks.

"Not exactly. A purpose," he clarifies. "I wanted to see if you were alright. I mean after that Defence class with the Patronus and all."

She fixes him with a look that says I don't want to talk about it but he merely fixes her one of defiance in return. "It's nothing," she mumbles. She should know by now that James Potter never backs down.

"You been hiding ever since?" he points out.

"I've not been hiding,"

"No one's seen you."

"I've seen Flitwick," she returns.

He smiles and shakes his head. "Its not that much of a big deal. Its just a Patronus."

"Oh that's easy for you to say," she cries. "I saw your perfect stag bounding across the classroom, Merithorn practically wet himself with glee."

"It'll happen," he ignores her jibe. "Its a hard spell."

"It's a charm," she corrects him quietly. "Not a spell, a charm."

He leans a hand across the table to her own. "It'll happen," he repeats. "Just practice."

She shakes her head. "It won't happen. Do you know why?" This time he shakes his head. "Because of my memories. Because I can't find a past memory that doesn't make me sad now, what with my parents or Petunia or-" she stops short of saying his name hoping James hasn't noticed. "Apparently its nothing to do with my charms. Its to do with my life." His grip on her hand tightens slightly. "What do you use?" she asks.

"I'm sorry." He drops her hand suddenly and leans back on his chair again. "What memory?"

She shakes her head guiltily. "Forget about it. Honestly, you don't have to answer its a personal question. I'm sorry."

He considers her for a second. "The first time, the night Sirius ran away from home. The second, a day I finally managed something that might help a friend, and the third," he pauses for a second, "The afternoon you said we should be friends." If this shocks her she doesn't show it and so he continues. "Because all of those things give me hope and I figure when you only wands away from a dementor that's all you've got left isn't it a bit of hope."

She smiles at him. His eyes won't quite meet hers. "Hope," she repeats as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.


End file.
